We Wore Rosé Deodorant On a Hot Summer Day

You have to hand it to rosé, the Disney-channel-turned-international-popstar of wine, for embracing the superfame it was handed. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but there are rosé gummy bears now, rosé candles, rosé art to hang on your quirky gallery wall, rosé popsicles without enough alcohol to give a mouse a buzz, and now, rosé deodorant.

And sangria and mimosa deodorant for good measure.

These are limited edition “Brunch” deodorants by Native, a natural, aluminum-free brand that relies on baking soda to keep you from stink and arrowroot powder to keep you from sweat. The clean, white packaging doesn't scream BRUNCH—different colored fonts subtly indicate the drink they’re based on. On a 90-something-degree sweltering Saturday, I slathering on four swipes of rosé (per arm) and got ready to face a day of walking around Manhattan as the unofficial, unpaid, under-enthused guide for a group of tourists known as “my family.”

This wasn't my first deodorant testing rodeo—last summer I tried nearly 20 (natural and not) for Into the Gloss—so I knew the rules: Must test on a hot day that includes public transport, a bit of walking, a gym session, and without reapplication.

There was a note with the box that said something about applying sparingly, which I ignored but soon realized why I shouldn’t have. The rosé deodorant has notes of strawberry Starburst on the nose and, upon deeper, nostril-flaring inhale, Pixy Stix, Sweet Tarts, and a full-bodied palate of all pink candies ever to fall into a Halloween basket. The armpit feel was a little rough but spreadable, sometimes requiring you to rub the white granules into your skin for extra measure. Delightful.

At the particularly swampy Times Square subway station, I could feel my underarms fighting against the arrowroot—but instead of stinking, I was actually giving off scent, like a human Glade Plug-In. Family remarks included, “What smells like bubble bath?” “I’d love some ice cream,” and “What is your job again?” Hours later at dinner, my rosé-infused perspiration was still going strong, so strong that it clashed with my actual rosé. I just couldn’t get the smell out of my periphery. Lessons learned: Candy: good; too much rosé deodorant: bad.

Next up was mimosa, the bottomless brunch cocktail that has no reason to exist after 3 p.m. In deodorant form, it was equally cloying as rosé but more pineapple than pink. The tropical fragrance reminded me of a scented beach Barbie I once had. That is all.

Sangria turned out to be my favorite: a muted raspberry, not nearly as strong as the others, yet pleasantly sweet in a way that reminded me of Teen Spirit, aka the popular teen perfume that did nothing to make this teen popular. But a nice scent nonetheless! With lingering notes of Dr Pepper chapstick, grape soda, and a life before day drinking.

In my now vast deodorant-testing experience, I’ve found that baking soda is effective at its job—I didn’t smell like prehistoric gym socks—but most natural deodorants aren’t great anti-perspirants. They just can’t deal with actual liquid sweat like the normal stuff, especially when it’s a cool 93°F outside. You either accept the slimy feeling under your arms or, like me, you end up going back to the drugstore stuff and accepting the risk that may or may not come (no studies have solidly concluded one way or the other) with using an aluminum-based product. It's just like brunch: Some people will wait in line for it, but I am not one of those people.